Breathe in, breathe out
by Sleepyhollow101
Summary: Akihito is attacked and carries home a dirty secret. What will Asami say when he finds out?


**A/N: Hey, guys! I've had this one in mind for a while, I hope you like it! If I see enough interest, I'll write a continuation, so if you like this or have criticisms/suggestions, be sure to leave a review! Thank you so much for reading!**

 _Breathe in, breathe out._

Akihito stumbled down the hallway of the penthouse, the pain in his chest overwhelming. His mind was a haze and he vaguely remembered dragging his way up to Asami's apartment, hunched over in his sweatshirt. He was pretty sure that the guards hadn't noticed anything off about him. Good. He couldn't let Asami see. If Asami saw, then it was all over for them, and Akihito couldn't bear the thought. In fact, his heart constricted at it and he pushed it away. No, he couldn't think about that right now. He had to get to his room.

He continued his struggle, each step a Herculean effort. Once he was in his room, he could lock the door and get into bed. After some sleep, he would feel better. He would feel better and he would fix this. It would be okay, it always was, as long as Asami didn't see.

 _Breathe in, breathe out._

He finally lurched through the door to his room, locking it behind him. As he continued on his way towards his bed, he realized he still had his shoes on. Shit. He wanted to bend down and take them off, but any movement in his torso was accompanied by shrieking agony. Fuck. He would have to deal with it. He couldn't even take his sweatshirt off, as ragged and dirty as it now was. He was lucky it was thick so that the blood didn't seep through it.

With the last of his strength he dropped down to the bed, curling up in the center, holding his chest as though it was trying to break apart. Maybe it was, the pain was bad enough to justify it. Tears continued to slip down his face. _When did I start crying?_ He wondered. But it didn't matter. He simply laid there, pain echoing in his body, and reminded himself.

 _Breathe in, breathe out._

Kirishima was on guard at the penthouse that day. Asami had given up sending his best men to tail Akihito – the slick little photographer always managed to lose them, and it was becoming irritating. Instead, he'd install either Suoh or Kirishima at the penthouse. If Akihito didn't return when he planned to each day, they'd set out searching for him. It was a pretty efficient system and, much to everyone's surprise, Akihito had been very cooperative. They'd only had to search for him once, and it was a good thing he did because they managed to prevent a pretty nasty beating in the process.

Now, Kirishima had noticed that Akihito was a little later than usual – about an hour later, to be exact. Kirishima was trying to be patient, but it was difficult, knowing how important the young man was to Asami. He had just decided to wait for only one more half-hour before looking for the kid, when Akihito stepped out of the elevator and headed towards the penthouse door.

Kirishima breathed a sigh of relief – thank God. If he'd've had to search for the kid and alert Asami, things could have gotten ugly pretty quickly. After the Hong Kong incident, Asami had become even more protective and paranoid about the young man. If he was hurt, there would be hell to pay.

"Ah, Takaba-san, good evening. I was beginning to wonder where you'd gone off to!" said Kirishima.

Akihito grunted in reply, walking slowly towards the door. His head was hunched over and his hands were thrust in the pockets of his hoodie. As he got closer, Kirishima noticed he was breathing heavily.

"Is… everything alright, Takaba-san?" he asked. Something about this seemed wrong. And if something was wrong, it would make for a very angry Asami. Beyond that, Kirishima had to admit that he liked the kid and didn't want to see anything happen to him. Damn it, he was going soft, he'd never cared about his boss's lovers before.

Akihito nodded his head and let himself into the penthouse, not stopping to look at Kirishima or the second guard stationed outside the door.

Something was definitely wrong. Kirishima hesitated. Should he go and check on the kid? No, Takaba wouldn't take well to that, he'd snarl and fight with him. The kid wouldn't accept any help unless he was unconscious, and since he was walking just fine, Kirishima doubted he'd get far with him.

Instead, he decided to call the one person who needed to know, the one person who might be able to help.

"Asami-sama…"

Asami arrived at the penthouse an hour later. Oddly enough, he'd been on edge all day, although it seemed to him that there was no particularly good reason. The phone call from Kirishima had been just enough to get him to leave off work for the day. Although he was sure his little lover was fine – Akihito was probably just a little tired and Kirishima was paranoid – he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

He entered the penthouse and noticed that Akihito's shoes weren't at the door. Strange.

"Akihito?" he called out.

No answer.

He walked through the penthouse, searching for signs of his lover. He wasn't in the kitchen, living room, or the master bedroom. Eventually, Asami's eyes were drawn towards the boy's own room, the room that he rarely ever slept in because he preferred to sleep in Asami's larger, warmer bed.

The door was shut.

Asami strode over to it and tried to open it, only to find that it was locked.

Now, Akihito had learned the hard way not to try to lock Asami out of any of the rooms in the apartment. So if he had locked the door now… Asami's heart began to sink and he realized that something was really, terribly wrong.

He began to pound on the door. "Akihito? Akihito, I know you're in there, open this door right now."

Silence.

Asami reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring of keys. He had a key for this room now just in case of situations like this. He unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Akihito was roused from unconsciousness by the sound of Asami banging on his door. The older man was shouting something, but Akihito couldn't make out what he was saying. It was hard to think past the pain. God, he'd thought that he would feel better once he got some sleep, but he actually felt worse, if that were at all possible. He groaned quietly to himself, hoping that Asami would just go away.

He didn't, of course.

The sounds went away for a little bit – thank God, his pounding head was bad enough without the noise in the background – but soon he felt the older man sitting beside him on the bed.

"Akihito? Akihito, what's wrong?" he asked.

Akihito hadn't realized that tears were still streaming down his cheeks. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, thinking that maybe he could will the man to leave him alone. _Please, please don't look, please, God…_

Akihito had curled in on himself, lying on his side, in an effort to minimize the pain, or at least get a hold of it. He felt Asami gently but firmly place him on his back. Although he was trying to pretend he was asleep, a pained moan slipped out of his lips. God, it hurt. And he felt so sick.

Asami must have noticed that he was guarding his front, because he tried to pull his sweatshirt off. Akihito cried out in agony, and, thankfully, Asami stopped.

Akihito relaxed as Asami's hands didn't return immediately. He was beginning to think that he would get away with it when he felt the cold air on his skin as Asami used his switchblade to cut away the fabric of Akihito's sweatshirt.

"No!" Akihito cried. With a tremendous amount of effort, he raised his hands and tried to bat Asami's arms away. Asami didn't seem to register Akihito's protests, instead cutting away the rest of the fabric.

Akihito wanted to open his eyes, to plead with Asami not to look, not to hate him. But he found that he couldn't, because if he did open his eyes, he would see the exact moment that Asami fell out of love with him.

And the tears kept pouring down his face.

Asami looked down at the now-bare-chested Akihito, and felt a thick, violent rage stirring inside him.

A red haze descended on him and he had to will himself to calm down. _Don't lose it now, not right here, it won't help anything._ Still, for a few moments, all he could think was that he was going to torture whoever had done this to his lover.

Speaking of his lover, Akihito had tried to fend him off when Asami went to look at his wounds, but now the boy was eerily quiet. Asami looked up at him curiously, only to see the boy crying harder than before.

"Akihito?" he asked.

"Asami…" he moaned, squeezing his eyes even tighter. His voice was barely a whisper as he said, "please, please don't hate me, don't throw me away, please, Asami…"

Asami felt his chest constrict as a sob tore through Akihito's throat. The older man moved to gently lift his lover into his arms, cradling him for a few moments before whispering in his ear, "Why would I hate you, Akihito? Why would I throw you away? You are my world, Akihito, and I would never throw my world away."

The boy was weeping in earnest now and it was breaking Asami's heart. Whoever made him cry like that was going to die a particularly messy death, Asami decided, but for right now all he could do was cradle the boy and coo sweet nothings in his ear.

But Akihito continued.

"It's… it's true, Asami… Everyone knows…"

Asami felt the rage boiling up into his throat again. "Never say that again, Akihito," he hissed, trying not to let the boy feel how shaken up he was. "Don't you ever say that again. It's not true. Akihito, it's not true."

As the boy cried, Asami glanced down at his chest again, to see the terrible pain that Akihito had tried to hide from him.

Carved deep into his chest in ragged strokes was the word: SLUT.

Akihito wailed, "But… but that's why they keep doing this to me, that's why it keeps happening to me…"

Asami felt cold as he realized what Akihito was saying. "Akihito… what else did they do to you?"

Akihito buried his face in Asami's shirt and shook his head, and that was all the answer Asami needed.

Asami sighed and ran his fingers through Akihito's hair, cursing himself. Because, in the end, it was all his own fault. He had dragged the bright little photographer into the grime of the underworld, a place where he completely didn't belong, and now this had happened.

"Akihito," began Asami, his voice rougher than usual, "None of this is your fault. It's my fault. They're coming after you because of me, and you know that. Don't blame yourself, Akihito. If you have to blame someone, blame me, hate me, even, so long as you don't blame yourself."

Akihito took in a deep, shuddering breath and looked up at his lover with pain-filled eyes. "I can't hate you, Asami!" he practically screamed. He was on the verge of a panic attack and Asami could tell. "I can never hate you because I love you, don't you understand that?!"

Akihito collapsed against him again and Asami held him tighter, comforting him as best as he could. He was a little shocked by Akihito's confession, and it was bittersweet considering what the boy had just gone through to prompt it, but he stored it away in his heart, anyway, to keep as proof of the worth of his own life.

Before he could stop himself, talk himself out of it, he found himself replying, "I love you, too, Akihito. So, so much."

Those few little words meant more than anything to Akihito. As soon as Asami said them, he found himself relaxing for the first time since he'd gotten away from his attackers and found his way back home. He finally found himself daring to hope that Asami wouldn't think he was damaged and throw him away, like he had thought before.

Asami picked him up bridal-style and brought him to the large bathroom just off the master bedroom. He ran a warm bath before pulling off the rest of Akihito's clothing and undressing himself. As soon as the tub was full, he stepped into the water, keeping Akihito firmly in his grip.

Akihito gasped in pain as the warm water stung at his injuries. It wasn't just the carving on his chest that hurt, no, it was his bottom, too, where they'd… Akihito couldn't finish that thought, couldn't even bring himself to think the word. He found that he couldn't control his shaking, not even when Asami's arms tightened around him.

"It's okay, Akihito, I'm right here. I'll get you cleaned up and I'll dress your wounds."

Akihito tried to force himself to relax in his lover's arms, but the sting of the water was too much… eventually, however, he found that the pain dulled and the knots in his chest untied so that he could breathe.

He wasn't sure how long Asami held him in the water, only that it was long enough to soothe away some of the pain. Then, Asami lifted him out and laid him on a towel on the bathroom floor, using another towel to dry him very carefully.

Akihito felt Asami wrapping gauze and bandages around his chest, covering up that damning word that had been haunting him for the last few hours. He hissed in pain as Asami prodded and examined his hole, as well. He wanted to beg him not to, beg him to stop, but when he saw the look of pain in Asami's eyes, he didn't. He remained quiet as the older man applied ointment to the tears and then gathered him up in his arms.

Asami brought Akihito to the master bedroom and deposited him on their bed. "Wait here," he commanded as he stepped out of the room.

But Akihito couldn't wait. Surrounded by his lover's scent and knowing that his lover wouldn't abandon him after all, he gave into exhaustion and felt sleep overtake him.

By the time Asami returned with the painkillers, Akihito had already passed out.

By now he knew that Akihito was going to be okay. Yes, he was in pain and there was an amount of psychological damage that they would have to deal with, but Akihito had been through worse beatings and he would recover. Asami sighed as he carded his hand through the photographer's hair, looking at the boy's peaked face. He decided against waking him up to take the medication – Akihito would wake up on his own and he could take the meds then. That way, he'd be able to eat first, which would help.

Asami pulled out his cell phone and fired off a message to Kirishima. _Akihito was attacked. I want to know who did it. Find them._

He shut his phone without bothering to wait for a reply. Hopefully, his secretary would be able to find the culprits before Akihito even awoke. Asami didn't want to have to question Akihito about what happened, at least, not yet. He'd seen the wild fear and pain and misery in the boy's eyes and could sense that he wouldn't be ready to talk for a while.

With a sigh, Asami slid into bed next to Akihito, drawing the younger man into his arms. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep – he had to stay up and make sure Akihito got his medication when he needed it, anyway – but for now he wanted to feel his lover's skin against him, to know that he was safe and was going to be okay. Asami's arms tightened around his lover as he thought,

 _Never again. I'm never letting you go again._


End file.
